


Lucky Penny: A Novelization of Swing Time

by idharao



Category: Classic Hollywood - Fandom, Swing Time (1936)
Genre: 1936, F/M, Golden Age, Novelization, Romance, Swing Time, classic Hollywood, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idharao/pseuds/idharao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An original novelization of Swing Time, a little more grown up and sexier than the movie itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Penny: A Novelization of Swing Time

For the next few years after it happened, John Garnett could never quite explain to himself just why he had let his dancers trick him into giving up his pants.  
    It was the regrettable circumstance that on his wedding day, John Garnett was obliged to perform in his famous dance revue show in Boston rather than spend the day relaxing with a cigar like a man should do. The performance was an early one, it being Sunday, and began at one o’ clock. It ended at four, and his wedding was scheduled for five o’clock sharp, across town at his fiancee’s home. He would need time to change into a suit and get there, and curtain calls were invariably long. In short, he would be cutting it close.  
    Back in the dressing room, the boys clamored around, in various states of dress, bantering and arguing like a band of brothers. “Hey, Lucky, take a turn, huh?” Mart, the bassist, held out a pair of dice to John.  
    “Lucky” was John’s nickname. Five years prior he’d gone to visit a casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, and had won a considerable amount of money. Having acquired a taste for the niceties of life, John decided to keep gambling. He was, every time and invariably, lucky.  
    The name stuck.  
    And so when they laughed at him for wearing pants that weren’t current in style, he considered his bride’s embarrassment at the social ineptitude of her new husband, and decided he couldn’t cause her such consternation. So he sent Pop Cardetti, his assistant, with his pants to a tailor.  
    While Pop was gone, Lucky threw dice. He rolled a seven every time, until the boys were complaining or laughing in disbelief. Lucky even forgot the clock, until Pop came back in, saying, “The guy wouldn’t do it.”  
    Lucky looked up at the time and blanched. “Pop, I’m an hour late,” he said, horrified. He grabbed the offending pants from Pop, the hell with fashion, Margaret would kill him, and so would her father— and raced out the door, Pop hot on his heels. He didn’t know that his fiancee’s father had called the dressing room, telling Lucky not to bother showing up since he was such a coward as to leave his daughter standing at the altar. Another trick by the boys, who had bet him that after this fiasco, he wouldn’t be getting married that day.  
    And so Lucky felt like plain, stupid John Garnett when he showed up at the door. The maid looked at him in wide-eyed astonishment, and he entered with trepidation. In the living room Margaret and her father were sitting in silence.  
    It wasn’t that he wanted to jilt Margaret; far from it. He was quite sure he loved her and thought she would make a fine mother. He was quite at a loss to explain just what he’d been thinking. And in the times when John Garnett was lost for a decision, he turned the matter over to Lucky, who always had a quick solution. He pledged to earn twenty five thousand dollars as a promise to make it up to her. Her father, a judge, was not given to gambling, but found the absurdly high sum to be worthy of attention. He told him to go, with a sarcastic blessing.  
    Lucky fled. The nearest major city he could go to where people would not have heard of how a stupid young man had defrauded the daughter of a prominent judge was New York City, he reasoned. Far enough away to be anonymous, but close enough to return from. He packed a bag and took his assistant with him the next day to the train station at ten o’clock in the morning. He hadn’t even taken the time to change out of his wedding suit, not giving his dress a second thought through the scheming and plotting.  
    Approaching the window, John asked for a ticket to New York. He pulled out his wallet and had a nasty shock when it was pulled out of his hand.  
    “Hiya, Lucky.” The dancers were gathered around him, all in street clothing. “Where ya going?”  
    “Nowhere,” he muttered. “Say, what’s the idea? Give me my wallet.”  
    “Nah-uh, sorry,” said Mart, opening the billfold and riffling through its contents. “You owe us money. Looks like you didn’t get married.”  
    “Aw, Jesus Christ,” Lucky swore, “You can’t do that to me, I’ve got to get out of here.” They laughed at him.  
    In desperation he turned to the ticket booth and said, “I’ll flip you for a trip to New York,” palming his lucky quarter. The old man merely commented that he didn’t want to go to New York.  
    That was another thing, that lucky quarter. It was a quarter that for some reason had a gash in it, as if it had been scraped. It was in his pocket for a month and somehow never managed to get spent. Lucky figured if it was always around it must mean something, and so he decided never to spend it. It’d been with him for his ensuing career and he’d yet to lose significantly. Could be coincidence, but then again maybe not. It paid not to test his luck.  
    He watched the New York train pull out, despondent. The boys bid the engine “good-by, good-by!” in falsetto, and Lucky’s mind whirred. On the next track, he saw, there was a freight, headed in the same direction. He grabbed Pop and flung himself onto the moving boxcar.  
    Pop nearly killed himself in a futile attempt to bring aboard Lucky’s suitcase, and emerged red-faced and sweating over the top of the car with only a toothbrush held aloft. Never mind, Lucky thought. He could negotiate his way around.  
    Three hours later, at one o’clock, Pop and Lucky clambered out of the freight and walked hurriedly away towards Twelfth Avenue and the docks. Going east, they made their way from Twelfth Avenue to Fifth Avenue, the most stylish destination in New York City. Pop took a deep whiff of a passing plume of cigarette smoke and said, “God, I’d give my life for a smoke right now.”  
    Lucky regarded his lucky quarter. Maybe this time he could test his luck. “Well, take the quarter,” he said, holding it out.  
    “Oh, no,” Pop said, shaking his head. “That’s a lucky coin. I’ll manage it.”  
    Lucky watched, amused, as Pop unsuccessfully tried to con a cigarette from a well-dressed gentleman who gave him a New York how-do-you-do and left him standing there, smokeless.  
    On the corner there was a cigarette vending machine, and Pop, ever ingenious, decided to use a dime-sized button to get what he wanted. As he was attempting to maneuver the button into the slot, a pretty young woman approached with her purse and several packages in hand. She spotted the button and said, “Afraid that won’t do you much good, not unless you have a needle and thread,” and Pop stepped out of her way. Lucky watched her put a dime in and get her own pack. He caught a full look at her and realized she wasn’t just pretty, she was _beautiful_. He had never seen eyes quite that color before. He had an impression of blue sky as she looked up at him.  
    “Pardon me,” he said, tipping his hat to her in deference to such loveliness. “Have you change for a quarter?”  
    Hurriedly, she handed him two dimes and a nickel, and Lucky handed over his bit of superstition to the beautiful girl. She strode away as if in a rush, and Pop stuck a dime in the machine. Nothing happened. He gave the machine a blow with his hand. Lucky moved to help him and almost as soon as he touched the machine several packs and various coins fell out like a jackpot.  
    Lucky grinned. Maybe it wasn’t the quarter. He decided to try and get it back anyway, no sense pushing boundaries. So he grabbed the coins and stuffed the cigarettes in his pockets.  
    He caught up to the girl at the corner. “Excuse me,” he said again. “You probably think I’m silly—”  
    “Yes, I’m afraid I do,” she said, irritated.  
    “Er, that quarter…” he said, “might I have it back?”  
    “This isn’t going to get you anywhere,” she said, turning away from him.  
    “You don’t understand, I’m not trying to get acquainted,” he said, “I just want to know—”  
    A teenage boy came barreling between them, knocking all of her things to the ground. She frowned terribly, and Lucky dived to pick up her packages. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s all my fault.”  
    He took the purse from Pop, who had obligingly picked it up for the lady, before Pop, who had taken the quarter back, had a chance to put in three dimes in repayment. He handed her the purse and she sped up to get away from him.  
    Then she stopped short, turning. “All right,” she said. “Give it back.”  
    Lucky was startled. “Give what back?”  
    “The quarter.”  
    “I haven’t got it,” he said.  
    “Then where is it?” Penny was enraged; two thieves running a robbery in broad daylight! And one in a gentleman’s guise. She was filled with contempt.  
    Without giving him a chance to answer, she called to the constable on the corner, “Officer!”  
    The uniformed man came over obligingly. “Yes, miss.” He turned to Lucky, noting the fine dress, and saluted. “Good day, sir.”  
    “Hello.” Lucky was bemused.  
    “This man stole a quarter from my purse,” the girl said.  
    The officer looked Lucky up and down and cast her an incredulous look. Clearly a man in a morning coat had no reason to want spare change. “Now why would a man like this want to steal a quarter from you?”  
    “That’s what I said to her,” Lucky said, but it didn’t improve matters.  
    “You better run along, sister, before I take you in for disturbing the peace.” The office made a dismissive gesture, waving her off.  
    Her mouth fell open. “But he—”  
    “Go,” the officer said, pointing. People were starting to gather, and her face turned crimson with shame.  
    “God damned Cossack,” she spat at him, and stormed off down the block.      
     Lucky gave the officer a dirty look and said, “You hadn’t any right to yell at that girl like that.”  
    “Oh, come off it, rich men like you pay me to keep the screwy ones away,” the officer scoffed. “You should thank me.”  
    “All right, thank you,” Lucky said, and meant _fuck you_. Next to him, muffled under the sound of a blaring horn, Pop muttered, “Dirty son-of-a-bitch.”  
    “What did you say?”  
    Pop blanched when he realized the officer had overheard. “I said, uh,” his eyes scanned the sidewalk and lit on construction, “watch out for the great big ditch.”  
    Lucky, however, was looking after the girl’s retreating figure and saw her disappear into the building two doors down. He raced off, and stopped in front of a sign that read, “Gordon’s Dancing Academy. To know how to dance is to know how to control oneself.”  
    A dancer! Lucky was delighted; she was beautiful and she danced. Two things he liked very much in a woman. He opened the door and was greeted by the sight of modern lighting and furniture. There were pictures everywhere, and over the doors to the studio were the words, “Our young ladies are sweet-tempered, understanding, and patient.”  
    Below this large sign on the left was a glamorous picture of the girl from the street. She was smiling, her blue-sky eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. Her shoulder was swathed in pale pink silk. She looked like a movie star. Lucky smiled automatically.     
    “Hello, sir!”  
    Mr. Gordon himself, effusively British, came into the room and shook Lucky’s hand. “How are you today?”  
    “Just fine,” Lucky said. “I’m interested in some dancing lessons.”  
    “Of course, of course.” Gordon bowed slightly. “Would you give me some ideas concerning your preference of instructress?”  
    Boy, could I, Lucky thought, grinning. “Er…” he said thoughtfully. “It would be nice if she came up to about here,” he indicated his eye level, about the girl’s height, “and if she had reddish hair, that would be lovely. In fact,” he said, turning to her portrait, “that girl would be perfect.”  
    “Yes, Penelope Carroll, she’s one of my best teachers,” Mr. Gordon said. “Come right this way.” He led Lucky across a big polished dance floor encircled by a low white railing and into a small room with a record player. The girl, Penelope Carroll (at last she had a name and was no longer just “the _beautiful_ girl”) was standing there in a pretty black dancing dress, holding a record half out of its sleeve. She turned, and her smile fell when she saw Lucky. “We call her Penny,” Mr. Gordon finished.  
    “Hello, Penny,” Lucky said, bowing slightly to her.  
    “It’s Miss Carroll, if you please,” she said abruptly, and he nodded in acknowledgement.  
    “Mr. Garnett here is interested in learning to dance,” Mr. Gordon said, rather unnecessarily. “Now, sir, which type of dance do you wish you learn first?”  
    “What kinds have you got?” Lucky asked.  
    “Sap,” Penny muttered under her breath.  
    “Sap dancing?” Lucky repeated, puzzled.  
    “Tap dancing, Miss Carroll means we teach tap dancing,” Mr. Gordon amended quickly, giving her a pointed look. “We also have ballroom, ballet, aesthetic—”  
    “Well, which takes the longest?” Lucky asked, unable to help the way he was smiling at Penny, who looked increasingly agitated.  
    “It depends entirely on the student.” Mr. Gordon looked expectant. “Well, sir?”  
    “Well, now, I’ll take a little of each,” Lucky said.  
    “A little of each,” Mr. Gordon repeated. “Er. Yes.” He turned to Penny. “Well, go on, start the lesson, dear.”  
    Lucky moved to put his arms around her and she dodged him, saying, “You must learn to walk first. Start with your right foot.”  
    He dropped his hand and deliberately lifted his left foot to see what she would do.  
    “No, no, no, your right foot,” Penny said simply, her self-control masterful. As they walked step by step away from Gordon, Penny said, “If you’re trying to annoy me, you’re succeeding.” She sounded very annoyed indeed.  
    “I’m sorry about your quarter,” he said. “Really I am.”  
    “I know you don’t care anything about learning to dance.” And wasting her time.  
    “Oh, but I do!” he said. “All the world loves a dancer, don’t you?”  
    Penny gritted her teeth in a forced smile as they faced Gordon again, traversing agonizingly slowly. When they turned away again she said, “If you don’t get out of here I’m going to lose my temper.”  
    “Well, if you talk like that I’ll have to call a police officer,” he said. Penny disliked the tease. But on he went, the imbecile. “Officer, officer!” Blithe as a fool.  
    And then he topped himself by reciting the school motto.      
    “You’re doing splendidly,” Mr. Gordon pronounced as they returned once again. “Well, you won’t need me here any longer. I’m leaving you in good hands.”  
    “In lovely hands,” Lucky said, and Penny snatched her hands behind her back. Mr. Gordon went on his very English way, and Penny retreated into the smaller studio.  
    Bravely she started a partner step, a basic one. Three steps to the left, three to the right, and turn. And he nearly killed them both on his first few attempts. Penny let go of him hastily to avoid joining him in a tumble to the floor.  
    He looked truly embarrassed, which, despite herself, made Penny soften unexpectedly. He sat cross-legged for a moment, and looked up at her. “I really do want to do this,” he said, and he looked oddly sincere. “I’m just awkward as a camel. It’s like my feet haven’t met.”  
    Such honesty made her help him to his feet and say, “All right, we’ll try it again.”  
    She tried, she really did. She supposed maybe he might have been trying too in the beginning, until he knocked her off her feet.  
    “Er…” he mumbled. “Let’s try that again—”  
    “No one could teach you to dance in a million years.” Penny cut him off with a terrible frown. “Save your money.” Her voice was sarcastic.  
    “Penny!”  
    Mr. Gordon’s incredulous voice rang out behind them, and Penny froze. She and Lucky turned to see the mustachioed proprietor looking very angry indeed. Penny scrambled to her feet, her mouth working as though to say something. “How do you think this school can survive if you turn away students? What are you thinking?”  
    Lucky started to say, “Now, hold—”  
    “You’re fired,” Mr. Gordon said, and Penny turned white. Her job. Now she really was furious, and felt like a fool for trusting this idiot man who insisted on making her look bad. She scrambled to her feet and tried to say something, but couldn’t seem to make her mouth work. What now?  
    Penny turned on her heel and went for the staff room. Lucky tried to reason with the owner. “Now, see here, man, you can’t do that to the lady, she isn’t—”  
    “I’m very sorry, sir,” Mr. Gordon said over his protests. “I’ll find another teacher for you immediately.”  
    “I don’t want another teacher, she wasn’t—” Lucky sprang into action as Penny came down the hall holding her coat and briefcase. She looked stricken, and Lucky moved towards her. “Uh, Miss Carroll,” he said, pulling her towards the dance floor, saying quickly, “how did you say that last step went?”  
    Penny was protesting as they went, and was in the middle of saying, “What is this?” when Lucky’s plan fell into place.  
    He gave her a significant look and let his feet do the talking. Penny’s mouth shut abruptly and she looked at him in astonishment. He’s a dancer, her mind said dimly. Lucky took her around the waist and she was so surprised she didn’t object. “Go with me,” he murmured to her, and to his surprise and delight, she did.  
    She was with him every step of that dance for her job, for employment during a time when jobs were truly scarce. Money wasn’t worth anything these days and there wasn’t much of it around. One had to manage where they could.  
    Lucky pulled her close once or twice, trying to determine just how it was that this girl fit against him like a puzzle piece. She was graceful, graceful like he hadn’t seen any other girl be graceful, and when they came flying out of the room and stopped, breathlessly, laughing, in the next, Penny was aware that she had felt herself fly for a moment, and that this man was something extraordinary.  
    Mr. Gordon came at a jog. “Sheer heaven!” he exclaimed. “Why, that was amazing!”  
    “Is she still fired?” Lucky asked. Penny was aware, also, that she had quite forgotten about her job in the lovely afterglow of the dance.  
    “Fired? But you misunderstood me!” Mr. Gordon waved his hand dismissively. “What’s more, I’m going to call up the Silver Sandal and talk to Al Simpson and arrange a tryout for you there. He’s been looking for professionals to get people dancing.”  
    Lucky grinned and Penny looked surprised. “The Silver Sandal?” Then she smiled. “That’s wonderful!”  
    “Penny, you’ll wear your recital gown, the white one,” Mr. Gordon said, “And Mr. Garnett, in dinner clothes, I think.”  
    A stumbling block for John Garnett. Lucky paused. “Dinner clothes,” he repeated.  
    He turned to look at Penny, whose face was a picture of lovely anxiety at the thought that he might not agree. “You’ll do it,” she half-asked. “You’ll be there?” It’s a great chance, she thought excitedly. Anything for a chance to fly again.  
    He couldn’t help the smile. “Now do you think I could disappoint you?” Especially not now, he thought. That girl danced like a dream, and any man in his right mind would want a girl like her. “Of course I’ll be there.” Her eyes were really very beautiful, he thought.  
    With Pop at his heel and Penny and her friend Mabel, the school receptionist, Lucky hailed a cab and asked Penny’s address. The driver took them on the short trip to Fifty-sixth Street and Eighth Avenue, to the Vandervoort Hotel, which leased apartments and suites. They all got out, and Lucky threw a, “You can pay the cab, Pop!” over his shoulder as he followed Penny inside.  
    Penny looked up at Lucky, this man who had blown into her life and shown her how to defy gravity for just a second. She didn’t know humans could do such things. By the elevator she turned to him. “Mr. Gordon said eight o’ clock,” she said. “So I’ll be dressed and ready by six-thirty.”  
    “That sounds perfect.” Anything involving this girl sounded perfect at the moment to Lucky, who didn’t remember his dinner jacket dilemma.  
    “All right, I’ll telephone you when I’m ready,” she said, and turned to go. “Oh!” She turned back. “Where are you living?”  
    Lucky glanced around the lobby. “Right here,” he said.  
    “Since when?” Her smile was just a little delighted.  
    “Since from now on,” he said, the only answer he could give. She disappeared into the elevator with a smile. Lucky felt as though he were a bell that had just been rung.  
    Then: “A dinner jacket,” he muttered, turning away. “Pop.”  
    Pop Cardetti was Lucky’s assistant, had been for exactly three and one-half years. He came recommended by one of the boys as “a reliable guy with a face like a foot.” And indeed Pop wasn’t a paragon of manly beauty. He was a gentleman, though, which was what Lucky liked about him, but luckily Pop wasn’t so interested in women. He liked his job and he liked to gamble, and, as he explained, “dames don’t like a man who gambles ‘cause they think he won’t provide.” He was also a card shark, like Lucky, and had an arsenal of tricks up his sleeve, including the uncanny ability to find the ace of spades in any deck. But he was probably right about women not liking gambling.  
    Never mind that, he didn’t have any choice but to do it now. He sent Pop to find him a dinner suit and booked a suite for them. He had no doubt he could procure the money to fund his stay, and so he waited anxiously in the sitting room of their new living quarters, puffing on one cigarette after another.  
    Pop came back about an hour later, broke but towing a very drunk gentleman who was willing to play strip piquet, a game Pop said he knew well.  
    They lost handily. Lucky handed over his jacket, his trousers, and his good silk spats.  
    Then Penny came through the door looking like a stylish angel in a shiny gown. “Lucky, we’re late—” Her face fell when she saw the table, Lucky in his shirtsleeves. Lucky blanched.  
    “Penny—” He snatched the tablecloth to cover the fact that he’d lost his trousers to the drunk man, and raced out the door after her. “Let me explain, please, the clothes I had before—”  
    “When you’re talking to a lady you should really take your hat off,” she said, and it was so strange that he responded automatically.  
    “Yes, well—”  
    Penny turned and walked away from him, Mabel on her heel. Mabel glanced back at him, amused. “Your petticoat’s showing.” Then she too was gone.  
    Lucky felt like a fool, a damned contemptible fool, and he stood still for a moment, wincing. They turned the drunk aristocrat out on his ear and Lucky got to scheming. He needed several things very quickly: money. food, and clothing. And all he had left was his lucky quarter. He drew it out, running his thumb over the gash in the metal, and thought, _Don’t fail me now._  
    For two nights Lucky disappeared into the night life of New York City, winning substantial sums of money everywhere he went. By the time last call came around at the last bar on the second night, Lucky was ahead eight thousand dollars. The upper crust he gambled with liked him because he was charming, and the common folk liked him because he wasn’t afraid to take risks. He was unfailingly polite and unfailingly lucky. And he always made sure to leave before he made too much at one place.  
    He made it a point, then, to call Al Simpson himself and explain that the reason for their absence was entirely his fault, and took a chance and asked for another audition.  
    “Well, now,” Simpson allowed after a moment, “It seems to me like two young people like you would really draw crowds if you could do something showy.”  
    “We can,” Lucky assured him.  
    “Well, then, come around next Friday night,” Simpson said. “That’s a week from now. That should give you time to prepare. And Garnett,” he called his male acquaintances by their last names, “don’t disappoint me or that little girl.”  
    I have to make Penny change her mind, he thought. “No, sir, wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” he said.  
    At least now he had the clothes and means to make his way. Gone was the fine wedding tuxedo, in its place the tailored suits he favored, with neat pocket squares, polished shoes, and a good hat. Lucky liked looking self-sufficient.  
    It took a week, but his ruse of wearing a sandwich board advertising PENNY CARROLL UNFAIR TO JOHN GARNETT and roping Pop into his two-man protest worked like a charm, if only because it was utterly unusual.  
    It was Mabel who softened first, having never had a quarrel with either man. She listened to Lucky half for her own amusement and half because she suspected Penny might want to hear what he had to say. Lucky’s explanation came with a huge roll of cash, one that he and Pop had made off her original ten dollars, a good-faith contribution she’d made the day they met. Her mouth fell open. “Pop and I managed this for you,” he said, handing her the cash. “It’s seven hundred and fifty, and we thought you’d tell us if you wanted more.”  
    “Y-you made this from my little ten dollars?” Mabel was astonished.  
    Lucky couldn’t help himself; his gamer’s grin, the cocky smile, spread across his face. “I did.”  
    “Well, Mr. Garnett,” Mabel said. “Good Jesus the Christ never did me such a favor as this.” She counted the money again. “I’ll talk to Penny.”  
    “I’ve rescheduled the audition for Friday, at seven o’ clock,” Lucky said. “Tell her I’ll have that dinner jacket.”  
    Mabel smiled. “Good luck, comrade.”  
    So it was really for Penny’s benefit that Lucky and Pop spent so much time wearing out the carpet in that little hallway. Mabel peeked out at intervals, grinning conspiratorially at Lucky.  
    Penny remained resolute, however, until nearly the eleventh hour. She sighed exasperatedly at the sight of her friend standing on a chair with her head sticking out of the ventilation window over the door. “You know you shouldn’t encourage him,” she said, coming over. “Will you please get down from there and stop being ridiculous?”  
    She helped Mabel down to floor level and pushed the chair back into place. “Penny, you’ve been sulking at him for an entire week over something that wasn’t his fault, and you know it. It’s Friday. He’s scheduled a new audition, and it’ll be your fault if you miss it.” She crossed her arms. “You know, you’re not so smart, letting your stubbornness interfere with what you want.”  
    Penny folded herself into a petulant knot in a chair. “I like being stubborn where he’s concerned,” she said. “Makes my life easier.”  
    “Hm.” Mabel shook her head. “Must be love.”  
    “How could I fall in love with a common gambler?” Penny looked as though despite herself she had done something she didn’t want to do.  
    “It’s on your head,” Mabel repeated.  
    Penny got to her feet. “Okay, okay,” she said finally. “I’ll go wash my hair.”  
    So finally, after nearly a week of waiting and two days of peaceful protest, Mabel opened the door for Lucky. “You’re a big success,” she said. “She’s willing to arbitrate.” She pushed Pop back into the hallway and sat Lucky in the comfortable chair facing the doorway to the back of the apartment. He held on to his placard and waited.  
    “And would you tell that man to get out of the hallway and stop annoying me?” Penny called from the bathroom.  
    Lucky looked up at Mabel, and got up. “I’ll go,” he started, but Mabel stopped him.      
    “Absolutely not,” she said. “You stand your ground.” She turned to the doorway. “Oh, Penny!” she called, and sprinted out the door to join Pop in the hallway.  
    Penny, having unpinned her curls and expecting to find herself in non-judgmental female company, was startled and dismayed to find Lucky sitting there. She slammed the door in embarrassment and seated herself at the mirror again.  
    Now this wouldn’t stand. “Penny,” Lucky called, firmly.  
    “You better get out of here,” she said loudly. Lucky sighed.  
    “All right, I’ll go,” he said, getting to his feet. “But I wanted to tell you… I was wrong the other night. I’m sorry.”  
    An apology was the last thing she was expecting. She already had her hair full of soap or she would have gone out to see if he were serious. “Maybe in a way I was wrong too,” she volunteered.  
    “No, this one’s on me,” Lucky said. “I’ll go now.”  
    She heard his footsteps and decided in a rush that she didn’t want him to go. “Lucky,” she called. “Wait.” A pause, and then a softer, “Lucky?”  
    Outside the bathroom door, Lucky grinned. He sat himself at the baby grand piano in her living room and thought about what the radio was saying these days. From his fingers came one of the new hits written by Mr. Jerome Kern himself, a song that Penny particularly liked, called “The Way You Look Tonight.” She’d heard it from the radio and from the band at Al Simpson’s club. It was a nice tune, and she discovered Lucky had talent at the piano, too.  
    She forgot after a while that her hair was full of soap, and came out to hear him better, like a snake to a snake charmer’s pipe. Lulled by his voice, she came closer and touched his shoulder. He turned to look at her and she thought she might have let him kiss her, until his eyes widened.  
    Penny snapped out of her reverie as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Soap. Everywhere.      
    She fled and Lucky couldn’t help but smile. The dear girl. She was getting ready after all. He waited until she rinsed her hair and came back with a towel in hand. “I’m…” she started. “I just…” She swallowed and smiled tentatively. “That was lovely.”  
    With her hair in loose wet ringlets about her chin and her face free of makeup, Lucky found her more beautiful than ever. She looked very young, which surprised him for a moment; he hadn’t ever thought about her age. “I can’t wait to dance with you,” he said before he could stop himself.  
    She smiled. “I can be ready in an hour,” she said.  
    “All right.” His smile wouldn’t go away. He left her to get dressed.  
    When she met him down in the lobby an hour later he had to remember to pick his jaw up. The angelic white gown was gone, and in its place was a confection of pink silk ruffles. There were covered buttons running up her bodice and a collar aping his easy style, but when she turned, her bare back was decidedly feminine.  
    Lucky thought she looked delicious, like a dessert. Over this panoply of femininity was thrown an honest-to-goodness cloak, so that she looked like a princess from a fairy tale who had suddenly found herself on Fifth Avenue.  
    Penny took him in appreciatively as she approached. He looked elegant and dapper in his tuxedo, and he held out his arm.  
    “Good evening,” said Mabel, coming up behind Penny in a black gown. Her hair was curled stylishly, and Pop gave her a nod and offered his arm.  
    “Good evening,” Lucky said to Penny.  
    “Good evening.” It was a murmur. Penny felt very shy for a moment. What if he didn’t like what she had on? What if something went wrong?  
    But from the way Lucky was smiling at her she thought maybe she’d made the right choice after all. They piled into a cab and headed for the Silver Sandal. Penny’s heart was beating fast as the car slid alongside the curb. Lucky handed her down onto the sidewalk like a lady descending a carriage, and escorted her inside, leaving Pop to take care of Mabel.  
    Inside the Silver Sandal there was music and tables and myriads of people socializing, dancing, eating, and drinking. Lucky waited eagerly while she checked her pretty cloak and pulled her onto the dance floor as soon as she was settled.  
    The house band of the Silver Sandal was nationally-known. It was famous as the best swing band in the city and it drew capacity crowds almost every night at the club. Its maestro, Ricardo Romero, was a former tenor at La Scala in Milan and had come to America to indulge his taste for jazz composition. He was quite good at it too, and had more than one record on sale in stores. He was regarded as a fine singer, capable of bringing sentiment to any song. He was of a Mediterranean handsomeness and cut a fine figure as a conductor, and had an eye for blue-eyed, blonde-haired, all-American Penelope Carroll.  
    The first time he proposed to her she took it for overblown European sentimentality, and declined him. But he brought her flowers and learned her favorite songs, and persisted. Penny found she liked the attention but couldn’t entirely bring herself to take him seriously. Still, she was always welcome at the Silver Sandal and Ricky did know how to treat a lady.  
    On the dance floor Lucky spun her and held her close and whirled her again. She was having such fun, and didn’t notice that Romero was watching her with a strange look on his face. Lucky didn’t give the conductor a thought, as he had no idea he had any rivals.  
    But when he saw Penny’s eyes were drawn to Romero like magnets his happy smile fell. Romero was singing to Penny, the same ballad Lucky had played in her living room not two hours before, even sang it half-step higher, how obnoxious— Romero gave him a nod and a smile that said plainly, Yes, I’m hitting on your girl.  
    Lucky looked from Romero to Penny, who, seeing Lucky’s confused face, smiled directly into his eyes. She turned her face. “Don’t worry,” was all she said. Lucky frowned at Romero again and redoubled the pressure of his hand on Penny’s back. He hadn’t realized he’d have to stake a claim. Penny pulled back to look at his face; such a funny, dear, handsome face. He couldn’t possibly think she was thinking about Romero right now.  
    The music finished and Romero tugged at his collar, dropping his showman’s persona and relaxing into himself again. Lucky realized that the hardness of his face that he’d seen while Romero was singing was gone, and that he really was a good-looking man. And Lucky didn’t like to compete when it came to women, especially not this woman.  
    “I don’t like him,” Lucky said, as he let go of Penny.  
    “Why?” she asked. “You’ve no reason to dislike him, he’s very nice.”  
    “That?” Lucky asked. “You know, when I dislike someone for no reason I always find it more enjoyable.” No reason to go anywhere near the man, actually.  
    “Well he is very nice. He’s asked me to marry him several times, as a matter of fact.” Penny was leading him to the bandstand. It was only natural that dance and music should meet.  
    “Of course you laughed,” Lucky said, stopping her. “Or does he make you lose your sense of humor?”  
    Penny smiled and shook her head, threading her arm through his. She ascended the steps to the bandstand and Romero was at her side immediately. “Hello, Ricky,” she said, smiling. Romero took her hand. “This is Mr. Garnett, we’re going to dance together tonight.”  
    “How do you do?” Lucky stuck out a hand and was ignored. Romero was too busy looking at Penny. Penny, however, noticed the slight and looked unimpressed. It ruined what Romero said next.  
    “You know I played that last number only for you,” he said, in his terribly sophisticated accented English.  
    “Thank you.” Penny made to draw her hand away. “It was lovely.” She looked to Lucky, who was frowning terribly but trying to disguise it. He followed her up the side staircase to their table.  
    “Now I know him and I still don’t like him,” Lucky said. Penny liked his little frown. This territorial display was very endearing. She grinned a little.  
    Just before they reached the table, Penny turned to him and murmured only for him to hear, “You can’t possibly think I’m thinking about Romero right now.”  
    Lucky’s grin was very small and fleeting. Penny merely let him pull her chair out for her and they joined Mabel and Pop, who were conversing about something. It was then that she got nervous, catching a glimpse of Al Simpson, the proprietor. She knew the dance backwards and forwards, having done it at least several hundred times to the record. It was a Romero piece (her favorite, his “Waltz in Swing Time”), which was why the Silver Sandal would be such a wonderful place to work. She would know all the music. “Are you as scared as I am?” she asked Lucky.  
    She did look nervous indeed. Lucky reached for her hand under the table. “It’s only a dance,” he said. And you’re so beautiful that if you got out there and did nothing, you’d still get a round of applause, he thought. “It’ll be wonderful. You have nothing to worry about.”  
    “That’s right.”  
    Romero was standing at the end of the table. Penny looked up at his smile and had the fleeting impression that something bad was going to happen. “Don’t worry for a moment,” Romero said. “Because there isn’t going to be any music.”  
    “But Ricky, you promised!” Penny was taken aback. Romero had told her more than once that he would always play for her whenever she wanted to dance. She took him up on it a few times, and since he obliged her every time, she hadn’t thought he’d refuse now.  
    “I said you could dance any time you wanted, alone,” Romero said.  
    “I’ll dance with Lucky or not at all.” She reached for Lucky’s hand again.  
    “That’s what I said,” Romero smiled. “Not at all. Good night.” With a bow, he left them sitting there. Penny was indignant, and Lucky was scheming. He knew Simpson would be watching his crowd and had probably witnessed the exchange.  
    “Come on,” he said. “We’ll see about that.” He led her by the hand to the top of the stairs where Simpson was conversing with a few men. “Mr. Simpson.”  
    Simpson turned from his conversation. “Hello, Garnett. Hello, Penny.”  
    “Would you please tell Romero he has to play for our dance?” Lucky asked. “He’s refusing.”  
    “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Simpson said, and he looked embarrassed, as if he’d done something he wasn’t very proud of. “Romero’s played his last tune for me.”  
    “But you said—” Penny began, and Simpson nodded.  
    “I know what I said,” he said, a sheepish smile on his face. “But, I… er… lost his contract last night at a game of cards. I was… drunker than I intended to be.” He indicated a group of men, all oily and dark and handsome in a gangster sort of way. “He’s now the property of Dice Raymond.” Raymond must have been there to pick up his winnings.  
    Penny knew the name, even if Lucky didn’t. Panagiotis “Dice” Raymond had come to America with a different last name, but changed it to the easily pronounced and remembered Raymond upon opening his establishment, the creatively named “Club Raymond.” It was, despite its prosaic name, the only real rival for the Silver Sandal in the tri-state area. It was equally as beautiful, and the upper crust of New York City divided their time between the two clubs. Those who favored the darker atmosphere stayed mostly at Raymond’s, for gambling and hard drinking and business talk. Two empires were about to collide.  
    Penny deflated. “I… guess there’s nothing we can do then,” she said. She took Lucky’s arm to walk away, but he stopped her.  
    “Wait a minute,” he said. Lucky’s mind was whirring. “Do you think we could interest Raymond in another game for that contract?”  
    “I doubt it,” Simpson said. Then he seemed to recognize something in Lucky and said, “But he’s a gambler. You might be able to tempt him into a cut or a flip.”  
    Lucky knew Penny was watching him. He drew out his lucky quarter and gave it a flip. He was showboating, but Penny appreciated it. “Where is this Club Raymond?” he asked.  
    Twenty minutes later they were in a cab heading across town, through Central Park to the Upper West Side. The Silver Sandal was at East Seventy Second, Club Raymond at Central Park West. Mabel and Pop were still talking, and Penny was sitting in silence. Lucky was holding her hand. He held it until they got into the elevator, where they were whisked up to the thirty-sixth floor of a very nice building indeed.  
    _Thirty-six._  
    Lucky played thirty-six all night and won handily. Penny sat with him, though she didn’t like gambling much. But she was frankly amazed at the way the money kept piling up. He made fifteen thousand dollars in about two hours. After a while Penny was starting to feel dizzy at all the numbers and money and conversation. “I’ve got to go get some air,” she said to Lucky. “I can’t stand this strain.”  
    “Wait.” Lucky grabbed her hand. “Just give it one second.” They watched the roulette wheel spin.  
    Another bet won. “This is no strain,” Lucky said with a grin. Penny smiled at him and went for a window.  
    So absorbed had she been in the work Lucky was doing that she didn’t notice that Romero’s band had made the crosstown trip too, to play for the late crowds. They were set up, and Romero’s attention was caught by the movement of his favorite American girl across the dance floor.  
    Penny stood at the big picture windows, looking down at the park. New York was so beautiful, really one of her favorite places in the world, and she loved Central Park. It was like a stamp of pure nature in the midst of such industry and style.  
    “Please don’t be angry at me.”  
    Penny turned, startled. Romero was standing there, a hesitant smile on his face. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he said, coming over to her. “I just… I don’t like to see you dance with anyone else. It makes me jealous.”  
    Penny regarded him. “Jealous?”  
    “I’m in love with you.” He said it with a smile and with a very European confidence. Penny didn’t like it very much, but was surprised to see how sincere he looked. She flinched.  
    “You have a very funny way of showing it,” she said, and walked away, leaving Romero at the window.  
    At the tables Lucky had hit again and again and Raymond had noticed. Perhaps he’d give this skinny, unassuming little gentleman a bit of real sport. He couldn’t detect any cheating so he had to assume the man was just… lucky.  
    “If this one hits for you, you’ll have enough,” Pop said suddenly, his eyes scanning the chips in front of him.  
    “Enough for what?” Lucky asked.  
    “Enough to go home,” Pop said significantly.  
    “What?” Lucky sprang into action, snatching his bet off the table. “No bet, no bet,” he said hastily, remembering the ettiquette, and then sagged with relief. “Thanks, Pop, you’re a pal. You’re more than a pal, you’re a partner.” He counted a stack of chips. “I’m gonna go cash in.”  
    Raymond approached then, his hands behind his back and his proprietor’s smile on his face. “You’re not leaving us?” he said affably. “You’ve done something extraordinary.”  
    “Well, winning more money doesn’t interest me,” Lucky said, and was aware that it sounded vaguely ridiculous and didn’t look up at Raymond for a moment.  
    “Well.” Raymond put his hand over the chips. “You like to gamble, yes?”  
    Lucky nodded. “Sure.”  
    “I’ll cut you once, double or nothing,” Raymond said. If this man thought he was going to walk out of here with twenty thousand dollars, he was very much mistaken. Raymond kept a medal of Saint Eftychios (the Greek Orthodox patron of luck) in his pocket at all times, his version of Lucky’s quarter.  
    Double or nothing would give him forty thousand, far too much money. So Lucky cocked an eyebrow. “I heard tell you won the contract to Romero’s band,” he said. “I’ll play you for that. I’m a dancer, you see, and it always helps to have one’s music at hand.”  
    Raymond gave him an appraising look and found nothing of deception in the funny features. He drew the folded packet of papers out of his inside breast pocket and gestured for one of his men to bring a deck of cards.  
    “He keeps them on ice,” Mabel commented beside Lucky. Raymond flicked a look at her and turned his attention back to Lucky. Pop sat up straighter and watched the proceedings. Raymond let Lucky shuffle, and gave him first draw, which Lucky politely offered to him. Dice cut, and drew a king of spades. He smiled in satisfaction.  
    This was where Pop proved his value in… pardon the pun, spades. He jumped to his feet. “Hey, Lucky, why don’t you let me do it?” he said, and Lucky nodded.  
    Another layer of risk. Dice was intrigued. “Sure,” he said, and Pop took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and cut.  
    “Ace of spades,” he said, and held up the card.  
    Sleight of hand was Pop’s major talent. Lucky’s smile was wide and relieved, and Raymond handed him over the contract with an air of unpleasant surprise. No one could prove anything had been rigged, however, so to make a scandal of it would have been unsporting.  
    John Garnett was never this cool, never this smooth, except when he danced. It was nice to be Lucky, who won things and looked good doing it.  
    Excuse me,” Mabel said, with an air of tangible relief. “I need to get a double something or other.”  
    “Maybe we’ll play for this orchestra again someday,” Raymond said with a tight smile. He and his men walked away. Lucky grinned at Pop with enormous relief, probably the most he’d felt in a long time,  
    “Can you go cash in?” he asked Pop as he turned to find Penny waiting for him. He grabbed her hand and led her towards the bandstand. “We can have that dance now,” he said, incredibly satisfied at having solved the matter.  
    “How?” Penny asked, looking down at the folded paper in his hands.  
    “I just won Romero’s contract from Dice Raymond,” Lucky said, with pride. Penny half-smiled, half-grimaced. It was certainly a great win, but she wasn’t comfortable with such risks, even when they had high payoffs. But she followed him to the bandstand and waited. Romero turned and squared his shoulders as they approached.  
    “That’s a nice orchestra you’ve got there,” Lucky opened.  
    “Just about the best.” Romero’s smile was impeccable. He looked to Penny, who was showing off just a touch in the hopes of softening his resolve.  
    “And I’d say the maestro is just about the same as the orchestra.” Another polite thrust of the fencing foil.  
    “That’s awfully nice of you to say,” Romero answered, his own gentlemanly parry.  
    “I wonder if you’d be so kind as to play for us while we dance, if you don’t mind,” Lucky said.  
    “But I do,” Romero said.  
    “Well, the choice is no longer yours,” Lucky said. He landed his final blow. “I just won your contract off Dice Raymond, and I… own you.”  
    Romero was to be commended for his utter unflappability. “Oh, I see!Congratulations on winning such a valuable piece of property,” he acknowledged.  
    “Yes, thank you,” Lucky said. “Perhaps now you might play your waltz for us.”  
    “No.” Romero indicated the paper. “If you actually read the contract, it’s after midnight, and I don’t have to play after this hour unless I want to.” He adjusted his bowtie and glanced at Penny. “And I don’t want to.”  
    Penny’s shoulders dropped from their alluring pose. Romero turned away and said to his orchestra, “That’s all, boys.”  
    Lucky took action. He owned this outfit now. Breezing past Romero, he took a drumstick out of the drummer’s hand and hit the crash cymbal. Then, into the microphone he said, “Ladies and gentleman, my favorite maestro Mr. Ricardo Romero has graciously requested that Miss Penelope Carroll and I dance to his newest tune, the lovely Waltz in Swing Time.”  
    Hearing her name, Penny started to head for the dance floor.  
    “Wait a minute.” Romero pulled his arm. “I didn’t say—”  
    “Oh, look!” Lucky said, indicating the stammering man next to him. “He wants to be coaxed. Come on, Ricky, don’t be shy!”  
    There was a burst of applause from the people in the club; they didn’t know there was any deception and they really did like Romero. Lucky lifted Romero’s arm in an upbeat and, as the music started, he ran for the dance floor to find his girl waiting for him. He took her cloak off her and put it away, aside, off of her. She was smiling bigger than she had all night, surrounded by the airy beauty of her dress.  
    Penny was aware of what a statement this was. Now that she and Lucky were no longer at the Silver Sandal, whether they danced or not was of no consequence, for Simpson wouldn’t see it and Raymond wasn’t looking for dancers. The pursuit of this moment by Lucky, she realized, was purely for a chance to dance with her again, to unleash the raucous joy that their little rehearsal space on Thirty-Eighth Street contained.  
    Live, the Waltz in Swing Time was even more beautiful. It was a truly extraordinary piece of music, and the dance Lucky had created for it was its equal in every way. It was this dance that made her heart turn over and her pulse go wild. He pulled her to him and they whirled, surrounded by music and nothing else, for Penny forgot everything in his arms. He was smiling at her the entire time, and when he whirled her off the floor and behind a stand of Venetian blinds Penny was breathless and in love.  
    There was spontaneous applause from the main room, and Lucky pulled her back out to take a bow. He presented her like she was an award, and held her hand tightly. Romero’s smile was artificially bright as he dismissed the band, and Lucky swept up her cloak from near the drum set. “Come on,” he said to her. “We should get out of here before Romero gets really mad.”  
    Penny, giggling, followed him into the elevator. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “What about Mabel and Pop?”  
    “Believe me, they can find their way home,” Lucky said. “Let them enjoy themselves for a while.” He pushed the button for the lobby.  
    “Where are we going?” Penny asked.  
    “Anywhere,” Lucky said. “I’m having the night of my life, I want it to go on for a while longer.” With no plans, he took her around the lit Manhattan streets, walking down Central Park West and talking animatedly with her.  
    Penny was having the night of her life, too. She wanted, had wanted for a while now, to kiss Lucky. She hadn’t worked up the nerve, however, and wished Lucky would go ahead and do it and save her the trouble. He bought her a steaming hot ear of corn from a street vendor and they ate together on a bench. It was nearly three A.M. when Lucky hailed a cab. They rode home in happy silence, and at her apartment door Lucky turned to her, took her hand, turned it over, and kissed her palm. It would be so easy to take that palm and rest it on his cheek and then she could kiss him— Penny realized her lips were parted and she was staring at him. “Good night,” Lucky said with a smile.  
    “Can I come see you in the morning?” Penny asked before she could stop herself.  
    “Of course.” Lucky stopped himself from reaching for her. “Come whenever you want.”  
    She watched him go. “Good night,” she said as he got into the elevator. Inside her apartment she leaned on the door and allowed herself to smile as widely as she could. Even that wasn’t enough, but it was an indecent hour for singing and dancing, so she went into her room and shed her dress and fell into bed without taking her makeup off because she was thinking about Lucky, Lucky, Lucky…  
    In the morning it turned out Mabel had a plan. She devised a story about her childhood vacations at a lodge in Mount Kisco, a lovely place called The New Amsterdam. She gushed about its charms in summer and winter alike, and suggested they all go for a day trip.  
    Expecting no snowy adventures, Penny picked a wool dress and her caracul coat, with a smart hat. Mabel nodded approvingly: “Sexy and ladylike, very nice.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s eleven, Lucky should be here with the car by now.”  
    “Are we taking a taxi?” Penny asked. “That might cost a bit of money.”  
    “No, Lucky’s rented a car for us to go,” Mabel said. “Come on.”  
    Lucky was busy with a newspaper when Penny and Mabel approached, but gave them both a nod. Penny climbed into the front seat and settled herself in. She couldn’t help her smile. Lucky gave her a long, thrilling glance of admiration and drove off down the block. “We’ve got to get Pop at Simpson’s,” he said as he drove. “He’s arranging some kind of deal for us to dance there when Simpson finishes up. He’s decided to remodel the place.”  
    They pulled up to the hotel on Seventy Second Street, and Lucky looked over at Penny, who was smiling at him. She looked so pretty, and so happy, and so appealing that he couldn’t help the goofy smile on his face.  
    Mabel, from her position in the backseat, smiled too and made to leave the car quietly, to get Pop. The door squeaked, however, giving her away, and Lucky looked back. “Where are you going?” he asked.  
    “I’m going in and get Pop,” she said.  
    “No, I’ll go,” Lucky said. “Sit still.” He was gone in a moment and Penny leaned back against the seat, disappointed that her bubble had been burst.  
    “What’s going on with him?” she wondered aloud.  
    “Who, Lucky?” Mabel asked. “He’s fine.”  
    “He seems like he’s got something on his mind,” Penny said.  
    “You mean besides you?” Mabel asked.  
    Penny thrilled a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I don’t know. I never get to see him unless we’re chaperoned. I can’t talk to him.”  
    “Uh-huh.” Mabel nodded. “I know. That’s why we’re talking this little trip. I’m going to see that you get a break this afternoon.”     
    “Oh.” Penny liked the idea. “Thanks, Mabel, you’re a good friend.”  
    Lucky and Pop came back with the news that Simpson had offered Lucky part ownership of the Silver Sandal, and since Lucky owned Romero, the band could come back. He and Penny would be engaged to dance there five nights a week, with meals and drinks comped.     
    It was a heck of a deal, and Pop was very proud of himself for having arranged it all. He also had instructions from Lucky that he was not, under any cirumstances, to leave him alone with Penny. The spectre of Margaret was beginning to haunt Lucky, now that it had been nearly a month since he’d left. At some point he was going to have to say something, but he was terrified to do so. It could mean that Penny would leave him forever, and he couldn’t have that. That was his basic, elementary thought: he didn’t want to lose her. And so he kept his mouth shut and fell in love with very few words.  
    They drove about an hour outside of the city, pulling up to a dilapidated old lodge at the crest of a hill. A crooked sign said, “THE NEW AMSTERDAM.”  
    Looking around at the snowy squalor, Lucky shook his head. “If this is the New Amsterdam, I’d hate to see the old one,” he quipped.  
    Mabel’s plan was in full swing as they got out of the car. Lucky seated himself on a nearby bench, pulling out his pipe and lighting it. Penny liked the sweet, fragrant tobacco he smoked in lieu of cigarettes.  
    Penny watched Pop and Mabel banter back and forth and perched herself next to Lucky on the bench. He looked so handsome in his winter coat and smart bowler hat. She appreciated that he dressed well for all seasons. “I’m cold,” she said, threading her arm through his and leaning against him. He was very comfortable indeed.  
    “I think… maybe we oughta go home now, eh?” came Pop’s voice. Lucky, who was itching to put his arms around Penny’s small frame, nodded desperately.  
    Penny frowned. “No,” she said. Lucky shook his head, glancing at her, his mind changed. He wanted to warm her up in a very different but surely much more efficient way.  
    Mabel dragged Pop off and Penny seized her chance. She disengaged herself from Lucky and headed off in the direction of an old broken-down gazebo about fifty feet away. It had remnants of pretty patterns painted on it, and she could imagine that it must have been very lovely twenty years ago. Still, one worked with what one was given.  
    “Lucky,” she called, gesturing with her purse for him to follow. Obligingly he got up and came to her. “I think they want to be alone,” she said.  
    “I don’t know what for,” Lucky muttered, following her up the little arched bridge to the gazebo. Luckily the snow was soft and she was able to navigate it in her heels. Heels had not been a wise choice, but Penny Carroll was damned if she wasn’t going to be stylish on all occasions. At the edge of the wooden floor she took in a deep breath of the cold air.  
    “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” she asked, turning to look back at Lucky, who was hesitating. “Come in.”  
    “It’s a bit drafty, don’t you think?” he asked. Penny sighed to herself and turned back to the view of the woods she now had. It really was beautiful. In the autumn it must be a positive explosion of color.  
    Lucky gave in. He knew if he got too close to her he was going to do something he’d regret, something that would make Penny leave. He couldn’t have that. So he restrained himself though he wanted to abandon his pipe and get his hands under that coat of hers. “Well, we seem to be here,” he said lamely. Penny glanced over her shoulder at him. Lucky found he couldn’t quite take his eyes off her.  
    “Let’s sit down,” she said. All the better to get back against that solid warmth of his.  
    “Won’t you be too cold?”  
    “Oh, no,” Penny said. “Why should we just stand around in the cold?”  
    So Lucky, aware that he was doing something very stupid, sat down next to her and tapped his pipe empty on the snow. It made a little sprinkling of black ash against the white powder. He stuck the pipe in his pocket and reminded himself to breathe.  
    “I like being off alone like this,” Penny said a moment later, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her.  
    “You’re not alone,” Lucky said before he could help himself. “You’re with me.” A more obvious statement had never been made.  
    “Then I like being off alone with you,” Penny murmured in reply.  
    Lucky smiled at her; he couldn’t help it. He liked it too.  
    Then all at once his smile fell and Penny felt her heart drop a little. She tried again. “I am a little cold,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning into him again. His arms went up automatically to embrace her, but with a great force of will he stopped himself. Penny felt another stab of disappointment.     
    “Well,” Lucky said, John Garnett coming to the surface in his nervousness. “Flap your arms, that’ll restore circulation.” He got up, demonstrating how to do it.  
    Penny looked up at him solemnly. He was really doing this. “I doubt it,” she said softly.  
    “No, come on.” Lucky pulled her to her feet and moved her arms up and down. “It’s good for you, see?” Then in an instant he was holding her close. Penny looked up at him over her shoulder in surprise. Her eyes traveled back and forth between his lips and his gaze. His arms were tight around her and he was stroking her arms. His dear funny face changed to a look of pained desire. Lucky was completely sure Penny noticed the shift in his features.  
    Her breath caught. “You know if some people saw us like this they might think we were—” she swallowed. “They might think we liked each other.”  
    “Yes they might,” Lucky said. He was dying to kiss her and he could see her looking at his mouth. What a woman. She was disarming him without any effort at all.  
    “It’s funny how we met, isn’t it?” Penny said. Her voice was different now, lower and more smoky. “And everything that’s happened to us since.”     
    “The way we’ve been thrown together in everything,” Lucky said, agreeing with her.  
    “As if it were all meant to happen,” Penny said. Now this was a direction she could pursue. After all, it was nothing but the truth.  
    “It’s quite an experience.” Lucky nodded.  
    “It’s more than an experience.” Penny couldn’t help staring at his mouth. “It’s sort of like… a romance, isn’t it?”  
    Lucky liked this direction too. “Yes,” he answered. His own voice was coming a little frayed around the edges. “As they say in French, la belle romance.”  
    “La swell romance,” Penny said, grinning. She snuggled into him, finally, assured of her success.  
    Reality came like a cold snowball in the form of Pop’s voice warning Lucky off. He jumped, frowning, and eased her up off him. “Um,” he said, “you oughta be wearing galoshes.” He indicated her heels.  
    Penny dropped her arms slowly. She could have cried out of sheer frustration. “I think we better go home,” she said quickly, trying to cover up her feelings. Lucky watched her move off, acutely aware that he was making mistakes left and right here. He followed her out of the gazebo.  
    Penny turned to him suddenly and said, “This isn’t the kind of romance I thought it would be.” Lucky was quiet. “I can’t imagine anyone would call this romantic,” she added. “I can’t get close to you at all. Why am I bothering?”  
    She sat hard on a nearby bench and crossed her arms. Now she really was cold, inside and out. Lucky came to her and sat beside her, contrite. “You’re not really angry at me, are you?” he asked, sounding rather like a little boy.  
    She wasn’t angry. That much was true. “No,” she said. “Just disappointed.”  
    “Don’t be, you’re too nice,” Lucky said, but he was also aware that it wasn’t enough. Her face was still solemn and her eyes were still wide with emotion.  
    “You’re nice too, sometimes.” Penny looked down at her hands.  
    “Only sometimes?”  
    There was a pause. “I can’t… I can’t make you out,” Penny said. “You’re so aloof and I—”  
    “So I’m aloof, am I?” Lucky asked. Then he seemed to make a decision, and turned Penny by her shoulders. “Come,” he murmured, and Penny realized he was going to kiss her. She turned to water all at once, leaning into his arms. She could feel his breath on her lips and—  
    A snowball hit Lucky squarely on the head, scattering snow on both of them. Penny pulled back, shaking her head to get the snow out of her face. Lucky’s fine hat had a significant dent in it.  
    “Yoo-hoo,” called Pop. “Come on and play.” He grinned somewhat desperately at Lucky.  
    “He wants to play,” said Penny incredulously.  
    Lucky got up and lobbed a snowball back at Pop with rather more force than was necessary. Pop, despite his homely appearance, was quick on the uptake and ducked, so Mabel, who was behind him, got the snowball full in the face. “Oh!” Lucky exclaimed, rushing over to her. “Jesus, Mabel, I’m so sorry—”  
    “You’re sorry? I’m the one with the snow in my face,” Mabel said, licking her lips. “You know,” she added reflectively a moment later. “Snow tastes just as bad as water.” It was a joke, meant to show Lucky that she wasn’t angry.  
    Pop came clambering over the snow. “Would you try and square me with Mabel?” he asked, and though Penny was irritated with him for interrupting the kiss, she turned to him.  
    “What about?” she asked.     
    “About making Lucky stop gambling,” Pop said. “She’s sore at me ‘cause she was doing so well.”  
    “All right, I’ll try and fix it.” Penny expected that was the end of it.  
    “See, what she doesn’t realize,” Pop continued, “is that if Lucky gets twenty five thousand dollars ahead, he has to go home and marry that girl.”  
    Penny’s eyes flew to Pop’s face. “What?” she asked. “What girl?” _No, no, no,_ her heart said, rebelling against this idea.  
    “The girl he’s engaged to.” Pop was relentless. This ought to scotch this attraction that was developing between the two of them, he thought. Lucky had no business leading anyone on. “See—”  
    “Pop!” Lucky came back over the little hill. “Come here for a minute.”  
    Pop left Penny to sit slowly on a bench. She couldn’t move. The cold was forgotten, the snow was forgotten. Her heart felt like a ball of painful lead.  
    “Leave us alone now,” Lucky said. “Never mind what I said before, I’m going to make my move.” Pop glanced back at Penny and shrugged. Lucky came bounding back over the snow, his mind made up once and for all. He was going to make Penny his.  
    “Now, er, where were we when Pop interrupted us?” he asked with a smile. “Oh, yes, I believe you had just called me aloof.”  
    “No.” Penny got up, wanting to get away from him. The tears threatened as she started to walk back to the car. “It was a laugh.”  
    “And it seems I was just about to do something about it, too,” said Lucky, pulling her back to him and moving to put his arms around her again.  
    Penny stopped him. How could he? She walked slowly through the snow, her arms clasped protectively around herself. “You know you’re right,” Lucky said, catching up to her at the car. “This is a strange romance.” Penny climbed into the driver’s seat wordlessly.  
    In response Penny turned on the windshield wiper full-force, so that Lucky got a face full of snow. Mabel and Pop joined them a moment later, and Mabel, seeing the expression on Penny’s face, got into the front passenger seat, leaving Pop and Lucky to take the back. Penny drove silently, her eyes on the road. She couldn’t have gotten any words around the lump in her throat anyway. When they pulled up to the building she parked and left the keys in the ignition for Lucky. She disappeared up the elevator before even Mabel could catch up to her, and Lucky was very aware that it was his fault.  
    Whatever their feelings, however, they had rehearsal the next day, eight hours of it. It was a subdued affair, and Penny had none of her usual jokes for him. They danced in a focused, almost ritualistic repetition of a routine meant to get people dancing for Simpson’s re-opening of the newly remodeled Silver Sandal that night. Penny dreaded the night and that made her sadder because she had wanted it to be wonderful. Lucky didn’t try and push her and so the day passed with very little conversation.  
    Her dress that night was one she’d specifically designed for the occasion, in a happier frame of mind. Mr. Gordon was aware of what a talent he had in Penny Carroll and allowed her to create her own costumes. It was pale pink, almost white, with diamond-like stones criss-crossing her bodice and dipping low in the back to showcase her shoulders and her fine skin. She had designed it with Lucky in mind because she knew what he liked to see on her; he had admitted as much to her a few days before their New Amsterdam adventure. It hugged her figure in a very flattering way indeed. The skirts were wide and diaphanous and flowed like water around her. A silky cape of matching material was clasped around her neck with a string of matching stones. She had real diamonds in her ears and on her wrists, a gift from Lucky and Pop when they started hitting it really big. Mabel had a diamond bracelet too.  
    The Silver Sandal looked gorgeous; the floor was an art-deco rendering of the skyline of New York City, and Simpson had refinished the rest of the floor in black marble. The tables were covered in new cloths and the lights were all brand new. It could not have been cheap. Ricky and his band, officially Lucky’s property, were once again playing for the grand gala night.  
    A knock came on Penny’s dressing room door as she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Expecting Mabel, she called, “Come in, the door’s open.”  
    It was Ricky. Penny turned from her mirror. “Ricky,” she said. “What can I do for you?”  
    The maestro looked her over admiringly. “You are so beautiful,” he said. He paused. “I’ve come to ask you something.”  
    Penny stiffened a little. “Yes?”  
    Ricky reached into his pocket and drew out a small box. This was a step further than he’d ever gone before. “Marry me, Penny, everything is falling back into place. You don’t want that skinny tap dancer, I know you.” He opened the box and inside was a solitaire diamond on a gold band. “Marry me.”  
    Penny reached for the box involuntarily. She had had so little occasion to own good jewelry. “It’s very lovely,” she said. “But I couldn’t.” She softened her rejection with a smile.  
    “Oh, please, you’d make me so happy,” Ricky said pleadingly.  
    “Oh, hello.” Mabel, good old Mabel, came in at exactly the right time, and Penny breathed a sigh of relief.  
    “I was just asking Penny how she expects me to concentrate if she dresses like that,” Ricky said smoothly, covering up the rejected marriage proposal expertly.  
    “You’ll just have to get used to it,” said Mabel, unimpressed.  
    “That’s part of my plan,” Ricky said, missing the point. He turned to Penny and murmured, “Good luck tonight.” Then to Mabel he said, “You know, sometimes I should be left alone.”  
    “Always,” Mabel said pointedly, and Ricky left the room with an anemic smile.  
    “Where’s Lucky?” Mabel got down to business.  
    Penny sat down on the chair in front of her vanity table and sighed. “How should I know?”  
    “Oh, so he doesn’t interest you?”  
    “No.” Penny left it at that.  
    “I suppose it wouldn’t interest you to know he was supposed to go back and marry that girl as soon as he made twenty five thousand dollars,” Mabel continued.  
    “So why doesn’t he go back?” Penny asked. Then maybe she might be able to recover. Seeing him was only reopening the wound over and over.  
    “Because he doesn’t want to, and you know it. He’s given up gambling,” Mabel said, seating herself in a nearby chair. “Certainly looks as though he’s trying hard to go back to her, eh?”  
    “Well what am I supposed to do?” Penny adjusted a few curls, but she was listening.  
    “Why don’t you kiss him?” Mabel suggested slyly.  
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Penny scoffed. “I wouldn’t do that. Even if I wanted to.” The last bit was added almost under her breath but Mabel heard.  
    “You mean you haven’t got the nerve,” Mabel pushed.  
    “Oh, please.” Penny put her comb down and turned to Mabel. “I’ve got nerve enough to do anything.” She didn’t like being challenged and the idea did hold a certain appeal, even though she was angry at him.  
    “Not for this you haven’t,” Mabel said. She was goading Penny and Penny knew it.  
    Penny got up from her seat. “I’ve got enough nerve to do anything,” she said defiantly.  
    “Well, perhaps you have,” Mabel said, coming to stand toe-to-toe with her young friend. “Do it and I’ll stand on my head.”  
    “Oh, gee whiz, there’s an offer no one can refuse,” Penny said sarcastically. Mabel only crossed her arms and looked expectantly at her. “All right, all right. I’ll do it. If only just to see you try and stand on your head.” She turned and left the room in a hurry.  
    Once outside the door she felt an uprush of terror and anticipation. She swallowed and started to walk. At his door she paused, took a breath, and knocked rapidly.  
    “Come in,” came Lucky’s voice from inside.  
    Penny burst in rather more hastily than she’d intended. Lucky looked up at her reflection in the mirror and stopped. She looked unbelievably beautiful; he didn’t think she could surpass herself for her everyday beauty was breathtaking, but here she was. He got up from his chair and turned to her, smiling. Had she forgiven him?  
    Penny didn’t move for a long moment, and Lucky’s smile turned puzzled. Then she gathered her courage and leaned forward, almost tripping over her feet. Lucky stepped back, looking confused. She did it again, and Lucky stepped back again. Penny abandoned all hope, and said loudly, “H-how d’you like m’dress?” She felt like a first class idiot.  
    “It’s nice,” Lucky said, his smile returning.  
    “You like it?” Penny was aware she was digging herself deeper.  
    “Yes,” Lucky said.  
    “Thanks,” Penny said in a rush, and ran for the door.  
    “Wait a minute,” Lucky said. Penny turned. “I think it’s wonderful. The skirt is nice, the…” He looked for a moment at the cape. “…the sleeves are nice.”  
    “It’s a cape,” Penny said, her throat loosening itself as the nervousness drained away.  
    “The cape is nice,” Lucky said, smiling. “The back is nice.” He looked her over in honest admiration. “Your hair is nice.” He was getting closer and closer to her, and Penny felt a rising excitement. Forget that other girl. “And you?” he added. “Well…”  
    Lucky backed her gently into the wall, the length and warmth of him pressing against her. To be surrounded by him was delicious and thrilling and Penny lifted her lips to his.  
    She’d imagined kissing him and she knew he wanted to. Now that it was happening it was better than anything her imagination could have conjured up. He kissed her until she surrendered completely to him, her mouth opening under his. His hands encircled her waist. Penny couldn’t remember ever being kissed quite like this. She forgot her fresh lipstick and her nerves and her confusion. How he did this to her, she had no idea, but there it was.  
    He kissed her until she had no breath left, until she could have swooned in delight and abandoned her beautiful dress on the floor of his dressing room. He kissed her until she had no idea how she had ever not known this sensation.  
    Neither of them noticed the door open. By then they were breathless and giggling like two teenagers. Simpson, who had opened the door, cleared his throat. Lucky had a clear smudge of lipstick on his mouth which neither of them seemed to care about. “Er,” Simpson began. “You’re on next.” He fled.  
    “Am I?” Lucky said, looking very much as though he had forgotten entirely the fact that he was to do a show that night. He turned back to Penny. “It’s nice,” he said, for that was the only thing he could think of in the wake of feeling her body against his.  
    “You like it?” she repeated.      
    “I really do.” The smile was unstoppable on both their faces.  
    “Thanks,” Penny said, opening the door without looking. “Good-bye.”  
    “Bye,” Lucky said breathlessly as she shut the door. With a whoop he leapt over the back of his chair and took a look at himself in the mirror. He noticed the lipstick for the first time. Well, there was no way he was going to wipe away the memory of that kiss, so he dipped his hands in his facepaint and blended the shell-pink color into his makeup. He was still buzzing when he took his place backstage. Romero had written a piece specifically for Lucky about the great Bill Bojangles Robinson, Lucky’s inspiration and biggest influence. Simpson had hired a chorus of dancing girls for his opening night entertainment. Penny watched from the side as Lucky did a truly spectacular tap solo. She was very proud of him and in awe of his flashing feet. That ability was half the seduction; he could fly all on his own or he could take her with him and she was very grateful he wanted to take her with him.  
    Lucky took his bows to tumultuous applause, grinning until he spotted a familiar face in the audience. Margaret was applauding along with the rest of the audience, a smile of pride on her face. Lucky took his last bow and fled back to his dressing room.  
    In the hallway Penny was conversing with Simpson as she went back to her dressing room for a final touch up to her makeup. She came face to face with the pretty brunette, who, upon seeing a friendly female face, asked, “Excuse me, have you seen Mr. John Garnett?”  
    Why was this girl looking for Lucky? “You mean Lucky?” Penny asked, on her guard though she was smiling.  
    “I mean John,” Margaret said, unaware of this nickname.  
    “No, I haven’t,” Penny said. If she didn’t know who this woman was she certainly wasn’t going to let her near Lucky. “Either one of them.”  
    Simpson, however, was a gentleman and a proprietor, and brought Margaret to Lucky’s dressing room. She settled herself in a chair and waited for a moment, until the door opened. She sat up, expecting Lucky, and was greeted by a group of four dark, oily, handsome men conversing in Greek, followed by Pop and Simpson. They stopped when they saw her and then one spoke up, “All right, sister, out.”  
    Margaret fled.  
    Behind the drapes that separated his changing area from the rest of the room, Lucky waited. He’d managed to make it in a few seconds before Simpson let Margaret in behind him, and only his quick dancer’s reflexes had gotten him out of sight in time. Now he was caught. He emerged with a jaunty smile, saying, “Well, thanks, fellas!” He turned to Simpson. Perhaps he could avert this crisis still. “Where’s Penny? I’ve got to see her right away.”  
    “She’s in her room,” Simpson began, but he was cut off by Dice Raymond.  
    “You’re staying here,” he said. “Your troll of an assistant over here showed me his neat little card trick with the ace of spades.”  
    There was an ugly silence. _Shit,_ Lucky thought. “What’s on your mind, Raymond?” he asked casually.  
    “I’ve come to play you for the orchestra again,” Raymond said.  
    “Oh, no you don’t,” Lucky said.  
    “Oh, yes I do,” Raymond said. “You told me that card game was on the level.”  
    “It was!” Lucky said, aware that he could be caught out by lying. But it was his only chance.  
    Raymond looked sardonically at Pop. “What about this guy?” he asked. “He knows a great deal about cards, and you let him cut for you.”  
    “You listen to me,” Lucky said, making his last stand. “That game was on the level.”  
    “No, Lucky, it wasn’t.” Pop spoke up. “He pulled a cold deck on you and I palmed the ace of spades on him.”  
    There. Nothing else was left to be said. Lucky let his breath out. “Well, it was a nice, friendly little game,” he said lamely. Then, caught, he had no choice. “All right.”  
    Raymond grinned. “We’ll use my deck,” he said, retrieving cards from inside his jacket pocket. The mark of a true gambler, Lucky thought in passing.  
    “Lucky, don’t be a sucker—” Pop began, but Raymond’s two henchmen pulled him back and shut him up with a glare.  
    Lucky sighed, and cut the deck. “Ten of diamonds,” he said. Not a high card but not a low card.  
    Raymond took his cut. “King of clubs,” he said triumphantly. A perfectly clean deck, and he’d still won. Good luck was coming back. He thought of his medal of St. Eftychios and smiled again.  
    “All right,” Lucky repeated, his voice low. He turned away. “Simpson, give him the contract.” He felt his throat beginning to close in defeat. It was all coming down, like, ha, a house of cards. Raymond departed, saying something in Greek to his buddies. They all laughed, the sound fading down the hallway.  
    As if that wasn’t enough, Margaret came in a moment later, having seen the men depart. “John, where have you been?” she asked. “I was in here looking for you.”  
    “Margaret,” he said. “I’m glad you liked it. I’m glad to see you—”  
    “Lucky!” In came Penny, looking more beautiful than he remembered. He took a breath. “We’d better get ready if we’re going to dance.”  
    This was what he was dreading. “There…” He swallowed. “There isn’t going to be any dance.” It was out.  
    Penny’s face turned to an expression of confusion. “There isn’t going to be any dance?” she repeated. Where had she heard that before?  
    “Lucky lost the orchestra back to Raymond. We’re finished.” Simpson said it bitterly, and stomped out of the room. He was justifiably furious.  
    “Lost the orchestra?” Penny looked horrified. “But, Lucky, you said you weren’t going to gamble anymore!”  
    Lucky looked very embarrassed. Margaret, next to him, looked confused and serious. She looked at her fiancé in curiosity.  
    “What’d you let him do it for?” Penny rounded on Pop, who couldn’t offer any legitimate explanation and so gave none. But Penny wasn’t expecting any.  
    Then she pointed at Mabel. “You told me he wasn’t going to gamble anymore because he’d have to go back and marry—”  
    “Penny, please!” Lucky cut her off and she turned to him with an expression of dismay on her face. “This is Margaret Watson, my fiancee.”  
    “How do you do?” Margaret said it gently.  
    “Hello.” Penny gave her a slight nod and turned to Lucky. He watched tears well up in her blue eyes, those sky blue eyes that held everything of her feelings in them, and he felt worse than he had ever felt in his life. “Well,” Penny said finally. “Why don’t you laugh? It’s all so very funny.” With that she was gone, the silky pink fabric disappearing around his doorway silently.  
    This was unmitigated disaster. Lucky turned to Margaret as Mabel left the room in silence. “Look, Margaret,” he began. “I’ve…” He could feel honest to goodness tears in his throat and eyes. “I’ve got so many things to straighten out,” he said finally. “Let me call you at your hotel?”  
    “Oh!” Margaret nodded. “Of course you can.” She looked down and away a little guiltily, which struck Lucky as odd. Had he been in any other frame of mind it would have mattered, but Penny was all that mattered in that moment. Margaret left with a little kiss on his cheek, and he collapsed at last into the chair in front of his mirror.  
    Pop came forward from his spot by the door and said, “Lucky, don’t be upset.” Impossible, he knew. “I mean… I’ll ain’t a young and pretty girl. I ain’t even a girl, but I’ll stick. I’ll never leave you.” He put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, but Lucky was not listening. He breathed in and out, deeply, and said vaguely, “I’m going to get this costume off.”  
    Pop left him to his changing, and Lucky put on his dinner suit, the one he would have worn to dance with Penny. Then he sat for a very long time at his mirror, wanting desperately to chase after his girl, but aware that she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. How terrible, that this miraculous, beautiful, feminine creature who had lit up his life so brightly could now reject him so thoroughly, and of his own doing. He felt like a fool, a damned fool.  
    When he gathered the courage to get up, he headed for the main ballroom, hoping that she would still be there.  
    What he found was an ugly shock.  
    Penny was standing close to Romero and he was holding her hand. Then, to Lucky’s utter horror, Romero leaned forward and kissed Penny, and she responded, and this was completely unacceptable—  
    “Penny.” He said it very firmly, and Romero moved away from Penny.  
    “Oh, hello,” he said, triumph in his voice. “You can be the first to congratulate us.” He held up Penny’s hand and there was a diamond glinting on her ring finger. Lucky hated that diamond, hated the smug Italian dandy for taking his girl away, hated himself for pushing her into Romero’s arms.  
    “I’d like to talk to Penny, please,” he said as politely as he could.  
    “All right,” Romero said. “But it won’t do you any good.”  
    Lucky didn’t answer. “Ricky, please,” Penny said softly.  
    “I’ll wait for you in the car,” Romero said, and left with her cape hanging over his arm.  
    “Yes?” Penny looked calmly at him, her fingers fidgeting with the new ring.  
    “I’m sorry, Penny,” he said, from his heart.  
    “I’m sorry too,” she said, with the same preternatural calm. “I guess this is why you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure,” she added, and then she was blushing because there had been pleasure, and the feel of Lucky’s hands on her body. Lucky knew it too and he looked embarrassed and ashamed.  
    “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I can’t—”  
    “I’m tired of finding things out, Lucky,” Penny said. “I don’t want any more surprises, please just stop this now.”  
    “Why don’t you believe me when I say I’m sorry?” Lucky asked.  
    “Because you _lied_ to me!” Penny exclaimed, the calm breaking a little. “More than once! And for _what,_ Lucky? Why did you do it?” She looked so sad that he winced.  
    “I know, I know, I’m a fraud,” Lucky said in a rush. “But you make me want to be better, you make me want to be myself, because I love you—”  
    Penny drew back from him. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she closed them again. Lucky plunged on, his heart beating. “I don’t want money anymore, I don’t want to gamble anymore, I just want you.” He finished and looked at her with wide eyes, as though he couldn’t believe he’d said all that.  
    “How can I trust you?” Penny asked after a long moment. Lucky grimaced. “How could any woman trust you? Is this what you said to Margaret?”  
    That stung, and Lucky was momentarily lost for words. Then he regained himself. “No. _No_ , Penny, I never said anything like this to Margaret, she’s…” He looked down at his hands, which were clasped in a nervous knot. “She’s not you.”  
    She knew she should get away from him then, despite her overwhelming urge to accept him, embrace him, forgive him. Now that “that girl back home” was a reality, she was furious and heartbroken, indignant for herself and for Margaret, who, she thought, was pretty and unassuming and didn’t deserve such machinations. “You made me feel like a fool,” she said with tears in her voice. “And I—” she swallowed, and then continued. “I’ve been waiting for something extraordinary to happen to me for such a long time, and you…” She gestured helplessly. “You wrecked that.”  
    There was a long silence in which Penny wiped at her eyes and Lucky searched fruitlessly for a handkerchief to offer her.  
    “I’ve been trying to figure this thing out,” he said lamely, finally.  
    “Well, it’s all decided now,” Penny said, looking down at her ring.  
    “For always?” He looked like a lost little boy.  
    “For always,” she said, and her heart clutched at itself painfully. Ricky would make her happy; she knew he would. He’d worshipped her for years, and the ring he gave her was clearly extremely expensive, and very beautiful. It was exactly to her taste. He promised her a comfortable home and financial security, and in the current times it was more than any girl could ask for.  
    “I’m going to marry Ricky in the spring when he takes the band to Bermuda,” she said, and shamefully, foolishly, it felt good to make his heart break. “That way we can… we can stop being in each other’s way.”  
    “And you can go your way, and I’ll go mine.” Lucky sounded as though he were speaking someone else’s lines. His eyes were locked on her face.  
    “Where?” she asked, despite herself.  
    “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He had no idea what he would do without her. What did a man do when purpose and objective were taken away?  
    “Does she dance very beautifully?” Penny was aware that now she was rubbing salt into both their wounds.  
    “Who?” he asked.  
    “The girl you’re in love with.” She knew in her mind she phrased it wrong, but he had to love Margaret, he was going to marry her.  
    “Yes.” Lucky stopped himself from reaching for her. “Very.”  
    The look on his face made her correct herself. “I mean the girl you’re engaged to. The one you’re going to marry.” _Who’s not me,_ her heart cried.  
    “I don’t know,” Lucky said again. “I’ve danced with you. I’m… I’m never going to dance again.” He said it as though he were realizing something.  
    That made her eyes well up again. Lucky was a dance genius; he danced as naturally as he breathed, and the idea of the world without his taps, his whirls, his exuberant defiance of gravity made her even sadder. She felt partially responsible.  
    But she had to get away. With a conscious effort Penny pulled away from him and started up the stairs. “Please,” Lucky said finally.  
    She stopped.  
    “Penny, please.” He was standing at the bottom of the staircase, and for once the dance floor was empty. “Please don’t go away from me.”  
    “I have to,” she said, but in her head she was reaching for him. “Ricky’s waiting.”  
    “I’ve got nothing,” he said. “I’ve got nothing without you, Penny, and you know that.” He threw aside his hat and coat and his hands were moving along with his words. “You know that without you I don’t exist anymore, not like I want to. Without you nothing I’ve done here matters. You’re the reason. For everything.”  
    “You should have thought of that before—” And she was walking down the stairs again, just to be with him, just to feel the closeness of him.  
    “I should have.” He was touching her sides, very lightly, his hands like ghosts of sensation. “I should have because now I know what I want.” He pulled her close and once again she fit into all those places he hadn’t realized until now were empty. Just go with me, he thought.  
    He let his hands and his embrace say what he couldn’t. She moved with him, because that was her natural function. She swayed with him though there was no music and she understood, but in the end she walked away from him. “I’m only trying to protect myself,” she said through trembling lips before she turned away from him. “I have to go.” And she walked away.  
    For the first time in a very long time, Lucky cried. They were silent tears but they were unstoppable, and Pop found him with his head in his hands fifteen minutes later. “Let’s go home,” he said, pulling Lucky to his feet. “It can’t get any worse than it is now. You need to sleep.”  
    In her apartment, finally free of Ricky and her dress and heels, Penny sobbed behind closed doors. Mabel, who had gone up to Penny’s apartment with her friend, didn’t try to interfere. She was terribly disappointed in Lucky, who, she knew, loved Penny to distraction. Men were such fools, she thought with exasperation and a modicum of contempt. They pushed happiness away with both hands, all because they were terrified they’d somehow lose their virility by admitting that there might be a perfect woman for them somewhere. Some men regarded their wives as the highest blessing they were accorded on earth, and others… didn’t. That was all she cared to say on the matter, having dissolved her marriage on account of a man who didn’t see her as a blessing. Well. That was that regarding that.  
    “Penny?” Mabel called.  
    “Yes?” The reply sounded as though she’d composed herself hurriedly.  
    “I’m going to go to bed, darling, or do you need me?” Mabel was prepared to stay.  
    “No, dear, please go get some sleep.” Penny emerged from her room. Her eyes were dry but her face was streaked and stained with tears and Mabel gave her a hug.  
    “You don’t worry yourself about Lucky,” Mabel said, and Penny snorted, overly contemptuous. She looked in pain. “He loves you, I know he does,” Mabel said. “He won’t marry that girl, you watch. He’s going to show up at your door one day and you’ll be a fool to give him up if he does.”  
    Penny shook her head. “What nonsense. Mabel, please don’t try and make me feel better.” She folded her arms across herself as if to hold in her insides, or to contain the ache. “I’ll just have to be hurt until I’m not hurt anymore,” she said. “That’s the way of the world.”  
    Mabel gave her another hug and showed herself out. Penny slumped tiredly onto her bed. Her dress was lying on the chair like a deflated dream and her heels tumbled next to it.  What a waste.  
    She slept. What else was there to do?  
    The next morning Lucky remembered his obligation to his fiancee, and called her hotel to tell her he was coming to talk to her. He found her sitting at a desk, her bags being taken out of the room by a porter.  
    “Margaret.” He said it from the doorway and she turned to him, getting out of her seat.  
    “Hello, John,” she said. She looked as though she had been crying, and Lucky wondered if she had figured out that he wasn’t in love with her. In her hand was a folded note, which she handed to him awkwardly. “Would you please read this?” she asked, handing it to him. “Just wait until I’m gone, it’s—”     
    But Lucky was already unfolding the note and reading. He looked up at her in astonishment. “You’re… you’re breaking our engagement?”  
    Margaret looked guiltily at him. “I… I’ve decided that you’re not the one for me,” she said, her voice firm though her face was a picture of nervousness. She was worried he’d be angry, for God’s sake, but Lucky felt his heart and head expand all at once with joy he couldn’t show. “My old boyfriend showed up again, a month after you left, and he asked me to marry him and I—” Margaret paused. “I told him yes, John.” She was gentle. “You’d made up your mind when you didn’t show up for the wedding.”  
    Lucky was speechless. “You…” he said. “You’re serious?”  
    “Yes.” Margaret wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry, darling, I—”  
    “Oh, Margaret!” Lucky’s face broke into an inexplicable beaming smile. “No, dear, it’s perfectly fine.” He felt like laughing. “Oh, God. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all okay.” Relief flooded through him.  
    Margaret looked as though she felt the same way. “Charlie Shaw,” she began, “You know him, Lucky, he’s—”  
    “We used to call him Goofy Shaw,” Lucky said unexpectedly, and they both burst out laughing for a moment.  
    The door opened and Pop and Mabel, who had been conspiring downstairs to fix this awful situation, came in. Penny had confided to Mabel that Ricky had actually asked her to sign the civil papers in advance of their actual wedding. It made sense to her, so she agreed. That afternoon they would marry officially at Club Raymond. That was what Pop and Mabel were working frantically to prevent.  
    Lucky managed an explanation and was feeling quiet good until Pop interrupted him with the terrible news that Penny and Romero were getting married much in advance. “What?!” Lucky exclaimed, and without waiting for anything else, flew out of the room and down into a taxi to get to Club Raymond. Mabel and Pop followed behind.  
    To his utter, utter horror, the ballroom of Club Raymond had been converted into a wedding chapel. By what magic this had happened, he didn’t know, but he was damned if this was going to happen. He bolted through the room and up the stairs to the dressing rooms to see if he could catch either the bride or the groom. The bride he’d try to steal away, and the groom? Lucky thought he might not be able to restrain himself from giving Romero a broken nose.  
    Penny was sitting miserably on one of the big leather booths, next to Mabel, who had her back turned. Penny waited, vaguely irritated, as Mabel giggled and snorted under her breath. Thus far she had refused to divulge why. “Now do you think you can tell me?” Penny asked wearily.  
    “Nope,” Mabel said, positively crying with laughter.  
    “How did he look when you told him I was getting married?” Penny asked. “Did his face fall?”  
    “I stopped looking when his chin passed his arches,” Mabel managed through her laughter. “All I could hear was that she’d broken her engagement to Lucky.”  
    Penny couldn’t acknowledge it. “Stop talking about him,” she said. “You know I’m going to marry Ricky.” It was true. She’d made up her mind.  
    Not having found the bride, Lucky and Pop made their way to Romero’s dressing room and waited for the Italian to emerge. His valet Frank was the one to come out, instead. “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he said in his cheery Louisiana accent. “Mr. Romero ain’t seein’ nobody today. He is getting married.”  
    “Oh!” Lucky said, as if the idea was entirely new to him.  
    “Is he?” Pop asked. He and Lucky stood up simultaneously. “Well, then he couldn’t possibly see anyone right now.” Pop led Lucky and Frank right into the dressing room.  
    Romero was standing in front of the mirror tying his bow tie. “Hello, Lucky,” he said, turning, utterly unfazed. “Or maybe it’s you who should be calling me lucky today, eh?”  
    Lucky looked unimpressed. Romero continued his pointed narration, talking about food and music and special guests, and Lucky’s eyes lit on something that made his whole face change. It was the magazine his dancers had tricked him with all those months ago when he was sure he was going to marry Margaret. He looked from the magazine to the miraculously un-cuffed trousers of the would-be groom. With a glance at Pop, he nodded. “Er, Ricky old boy,” he said finally. “You can’t get married in those pants.”  
    Romero whirled around from the mirror. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.  
    Pop let out a giggle like an engine turning over. “Your pants have no cuffs,” he said. “You’re going to look like a continental rustic out there.”  
    Romero stiffened. He did not like these insinuations. “A rustic? What would a troll like you know about fashion?”  
    Pop looked very smug. “I know enough to know that a decently dressed groom doesn’t dare show his face in front of his bride or his guests with sloppy clothing on, and you,” he indicated Romero’s trousers, “are going to embarrass Penny.”  
    Romero gave him a terrible look but couldn’t be entirely sure if Lucky was right or not. He saw that both Lucky and Pop’s trousers were cuffed and sewn neatly. He didn’t want to embarrass Penny.  
    Leaving the maestro to his fashion snafu, Lucky and Pop raced downstairs to the ballroom again. “God, I hate these decorations,” Lucky muttered.  
    Penny, from her position on the leather booth, saw Lucky run in and her mouth dropped open. She started to smile, automatically, but it dropped immediately. She looked down and away.  
    Lucky and Pop approached, and she looked up to confront him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.  
    To her irritation Lucky seemed to be laughing a little.  
    “You just came here to laugh at me,” Penny said, feeling another stab of pain in her heart.  
    “No,” Lucky managed. “No, I’m laughing because there isn’t going to be any wedding.”  
    God, how she hated that phrase “there isn’t going to be any” now! What else could she lose? “Yes there is,” she said.  
    “No, there isn’t,” Lucky said. He pointed at Pop, who, with that same weird laughter, pulled out Romero’s un-cuffed, stolen trousers. Mabel joined in their laughter.  
    Penny didn’t have a moment to react before Romero came storming out of the elevator with Frank at his heels, holding the valet’s oversized trousers at his waist. He looked utterly ridiculous. Even Penny couldn’t help the twitch of her lips. “Oh, no,” she murmured. She was going to laugh. Somehow Lucky must have orchestrated this.  
    Romero looked furious. “Where are my pants?” he demanded. Mabel and Pop tossed them back and forth in a little game of hot potato and grinned innocently at the conductor.  
    Penny looked at Romero in his oversized pants and his slicked-back hair and his European affectedness, and felt something loosen inside her. “What about the wedding?” This came from the officiant, who had been paid a hundred dollars to do the job.  
    “There isn’t going to be any wedding,” Penny said finally.  
    Romero’s head snapped around to look at her. “What do you mean?” he asked.  
    “There isn’t going to be any wedding.” Penny repeated herself calmly, feeling relieved laughter bubbling up inside her. Lucky had come back to her. There were tears in her eyes again.  
    Romero was very quiet for a long moment. “I see,” he said finally. “Give me the ring.” He held out his hand, and Penny put the diamond solitaire into his palm. She wanted to apologize but the relief was so strong she couldn’t find the words. “I’m leaving,” Romero added. “Don’t bother looking for me.” He gave Penny a very contemptuous look that said very clearly what he thought of her. He left with Frank at his heels, Frank asking all the while about his bags which had been delivered to the piers to the next boat to London, where he had planned to take Penny for a honeymoon.  
    Lucky turned to Penny and took her arm to lead her out of the ballroom and away from the farce of a wedding they’d set up. Standing at the big picture window overlooking Central Park, he spoke quietly to her. “Everything worked out,” he said. “Everything came out perfect.”  
    Penny looked cautiously, passionately at him, and then let herself smile. “You came back.”  
    “Did you think I would let you marry him?” Lucky asked.  
    “Did you think you could stop me?” Penny asked. Lucky gave her the most affectionate look. His eyes were very soft.  
    “Yes,” he said simply. “Penny… God, I _love_ you.”  
    She threaded her arm through his. “I love you, too,” she said quietly.  
    “Well, now it’s settled,” Lucky said a moment later, when he’d had done looking at her beautiful face in its sincerity. He made as if to walk towards the door.  
    “Wait a minute. Before anything is certain,” Penny stopped him, “you have to tell me what happened.”  
    Lucky sat down and pulled her onto a nearby sofa. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “If you’ll hear it.”  
    “Every word.” It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and he looked grateful for the sincerity of the sentiment.  
    “I… Margaret is going to marry someone else,” Lucky began. “She came here to tell me she’d decided on a fellow she… knew better, was her reasoning. I think she knew what was going on before I did. She called me out on everything.” Then he smiled a little. “But it was worth it.”  
    “What would you have done if you had made the twenty-five thousand?” Penny asked.  
    “I probably would have gone back, given her all of it, apologized for the trouble and turned around and come back to you,” Lucky said. There was no pretense or exaggeration. Penny was speechless for a moment.  
    “It still would have been worth it,” Lucky said. “It’s all worth it now.” He wove his fingers with hers. “I have fifteen thousand dollars a season coming to me from Simpson, and I can’t very well get much good use out of such a lot of money without a wife to manage it.” Penny grinned at him suddenly, unable to control it.  
    “You know the justice of the peace is still here,” Lucky added. “He could marry us today if you want.”  
    After a long moment of consideration Penny shook her head. “Not today,” she said. Lucky looked disappointed. “We should get out of here. I’ve got to talk to Ricky, he deserves some explanation.”  
    “He was nicer than I expected him to be,” Lucky said darkly. “But I imagine he didn’t appreciate what I did.”  
    “He’ll forgive me someday,” Penny said.  
    Lucky got to his feet. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go home and make plans.”


End file.
